Where We Meet
by serenelystrange
Summary: Written for my friend Steph, who wanted fluffy OT3 / Stark Spangled Banner. So, that is what she got. I apologize for none of the sap. I do apologize for any errors, though. Just a little domestic fluff piece where there's serious snark, gratuitous cuddles, and interior design. Hope you like! :D Tony/Steve/Bruce


"That is the biggest bed I've ever seen," Bruce says, eyeing the behemoth of white that takes up the entire back wall.

"Does it even qualify as a bed, anymore?" Steve adds, in a sort of awed voice.

Tony crosses his arms and glares at his lovers, turning so that he's facing them both.

"You know… I was expecting more of an 'Oh, Tony! What a wonderful creation! Let's Christen it, post haste!' reaction."

Steve manages to hold in his laughter, but Bruce doesn't even try, dissolving into decidedly unmanly giggles. When he manages to catch his breath, he gives Tony a fond little smile.

"I'm sorry," he says, eyes still gleaming. "It's just that we would never talk like that. And who even says 'post haste' anymore?"

"The falsetto voice was a nice touch, though," Steve adds, amusement obvious across his face even as his voice stays monotone.

Tony tries to school his features before his disappointment can show, but they've been doing this too long, the others catch on.

"Shit," Bruce says, taking a step towards Tony and hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of Tony's worn-in jeans.

"We're just messing with you," he says, tugging Tony closer. "The bed is awesome."

"It really is impressive," Steve says, moving to stand behind Tony and pull him against his chest, wrapping his arms around Tony's back until they're resting on Bruce's hips, a comfortable tangle.

Tony tries to keep the grin off his face, but he breaks after only a moment, and his eyes light up again with excitement.

"Of course it is, I built it!" he says, leaning his head back onto Steve's shoulder, humming contentedly when Bruce takes to opportunity to leave a bruising kiss on his neck.

"You did not," Steve laughs. "Designed it, maybe. But I don't think even you could have hidden a giant mattress and box spring from us until it was done."

"Hmm?" Tony says, thoroughly distracted by the attention Bruce is giving to the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

Bruce stops suddenly, pulling away with reddened lips quirked in a smirk.

"You didn't build the bed, Tony," he says.

Tony manages not to pout, but barely.

"Ok," he admits, "I had the mattress and box spring special ordered. From Nebraska, actually. Surprising orgy crowd there, let me tell you. But the frame? I made that baby myself. Nothing short of an act of God can break it."

"We could ask Thor to hit it with his hammer if you wanna test that," Bruce says.

"Thor isn't putting his hammer anywhere near our bed," Tony replies, the double entendre so thick that it may as well have been corporeal.

"Sap," Steve whispers into his ear, but his voice is just as sweet as Tony's sentiment.

"Plus," he continues, "There are much better ways to test out the new bed."

He walks backward carefully, pulling Bruce by his hips, pressing Tony between them as they make their way to the bed in practiced steps.

Tony's engineering proves true, and the bed barely even creaks. The same can't be said for the wall it's pressed against, but that can be fixed another day.

.

.

"We should decorate," Steve says.

He's lying between Bruce and Tony, head propped up on his hands, looking around the bare room. The walls and curtains, and even the linens are pretty and white but almost too clinical for his liking.

"I'd say something about how gay that sounds, but, you know…" Tony replies, waving his hand over their cuddled naked selves.

"Nobody ever taught you about political correctness, did they?" Bruce says, reaching over Steve's chest to swat at Tony's.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Tony says, grabbing Bruce's hand and trapping it under his own, on his belly. Bruce just laughs and shuffles even closer to Steve, turning on his side so that his arm isn't so stretched out.

"He's right, though," Bruce continues, "We should put some color in here. If it's going to be our… bedroom?" he finishes, uncertain.

"Sex room?" Steve offers, making the others chuckle at his lingering discomfort with saying 'sex' aloud.

Tony considers it for a moment, before grinning as wildly as his bed-mussed hair.

"I like to think of it as our super secret club house. Members only. Like the Playboy Mansion, but with more…me."

"Us, you mean," Bruce teases.

"Right, us, definitely," Tony corrects himself, "33.3, 33.3, 33.4. Perfect."

"You just have to have that extra point one, don't you?" Steve laughs, far past being offended at Tony's casual narcissism.

Tony just turns and bites at Steve's shoulder, knowing it can shut him up in the best way.

"To-ny," Steve groans, "You can't just avoid every question you don't like with sex."

"I really think he can," Bruce says, lazily, moving up to rest on Steve's other shoulder and nose at the ticklish spot under his ear.

"Fine," Tony says, turning to lie on his back, sharing Steve's pillow.

"We each get 33.3 percent. The Other Guy can have the 0.1. Just in case he ever wants to make an appearance."

"He will NOT be making an appearance," Bruce says, resolutely. "But thank you."

"That was almost sweet," Steve says, teasingly.

"Anyway," Tony says, "I guess it could use some sprucing up. I'm thinking… red and gold."

He's met with matching groans, which only makes him smile wider.

"Would you rather red, white, and blue?" he asks. "We could get a mural put up. Maybe that condescending bald eagle holding like…dead Hitler or something."

"I honestly can't tell which part of that idea is the worst," Bruce says, sounding like he's genuinely trying.

Steve just turns his head and tugs at Tony's earlobe with his teeth before telling him that there's not a chance in hell.

"That's not very patriotic of you, Captain," Tony says, "next you're gonna tell me you're swearing off apple pie."

Steve actually looks mildly horrified at the thought, which only makes Bruce laugh and Tony smirk again.

"Not green," Steve says, squeezing Bruce's other hand where it rests on his chest.

"Good call," Bruce replies, yawning. "I don't care what colors, really. Just not this hospital white."

"We should just ask Thor to decorate," Tony suggest, "Remember how awesome the place looked when we let him decorate for Christmas?"

"God, no," Bruce says, just a hint of panic in his voice. "I've never seen so much tinsel in my life. Who told him about tinsel, anyway?"

"Clint," Steve and Tony reply simultaneously, taking a moment to grin at each other.

Bruce sighs. "I should have known. I found that stuff in my clothes for _weeks_. In clothes I hadn't worn in months. It defies all the laws of physics!"

"Eh, so does Thor," Tony points out, wiggling his hand to gesture magic. Or an octopus. Bruce never can be sure with him.

"How about brown?" Steve suggests. "A nice dark brown, maybe with some cream accents. A touch of dark green, if it's not too much."

"There's not a ban on green" Bruce says, "Just not in overwhelming amounts. I deal with that enough on a semi-regular basis."

Steve turns his head to look at Bruce and gives him one of the smiles that makes Bruce catch his breath, every time.

"I just want to make you happy," he says, and Bruce can practically feel himself melting under the unique but intoxicating mix of adorable and sexy that is Steve Rogers.

Turns out, one never does become immune to him, and more than one does to Tony and his puppy-dog eyes of doom.

"I am," Bruce says, tilting up to kiss Steve soundly.

"We'll need some carpet, too," Tony says, interrupting their sweet moment. "I'm thinking at least like a foot thick. And soft. Super soft. Like… baby duckling soft."

"We're not using baby ducks to make a carpet," Steve says, even though he knows Tony isn't serious.

"A foot thick?" Bruce adds, just having caught up. "We'll have to wade to the bed."

"Or," Tony says, "And hear me out." He pauses for dramatic effect. "We just start at the door, and fuck our way to the bed, one patch of ridiculously opulent carpet at a time."

Bruce swallows hard at the idea, eyes going dreamy as he thinks about it.

"Hard to argue with that logic," Steve says.

"Genius, remember?" Tony says, and moves to pull the fluffy white comforter up over the three of them.

"We'll get new bed stuff, too. But I think we should sleep first. And then have more sex. And then eat. Or eat first, then more sex. Maybe a group shower in there somewhere. I haven't worked out the order of things just yet."

"You're rambling," Bruce says, sleepily.

"You're pretty," Tony replies, raising Bruce's hand to his mouth and kissing his palm.

Bruce smiles and pulls his arm back, tucking himself into Steve's side again, feeling blessedly small against Steve's wide chest.

Tony turns to lie on his stomach, shoving one hand under his head and splaying the other over Steve's shoulder.

"You have at least five other pillows, you know," Steve reminds him, with mock-annoyance.

"Yeah, but you're not on any of them," Tony replies, giving Steve a soft glance before closing his eyes.

Steve can't help but lean over and kiss Tony again, their mouth meeting with matching smiles.

"Oh, the lights!" Steve remembers, beginning to get up, but Tony presses his hand down on Steve's shoulder, holding him in place.

"Lights, Jarvis," Tony says, and the room goes dark. "Thank you. If the world is ending… wake Fury up first."

They finally all settle down, falling into an easy sleep to the rhythm of their combined breathing. The bed doesn't break, the world doesn't end, and no nightmares plague them.

It's a good night.

THE END


End file.
